


Surprise!

by sorrowfulcheese



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrowfulcheese/pseuds/sorrowfulcheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quiet lazy morning. From a tumblr prompt, "It wasn't supposed to happen like that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprise!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gwyllgi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllgi/gifts).



    Bull let his head droop a little, closed his eyes. Dorian's fingers worked their magic—  
  
     _ha ha, magic_  
  
    —and Bull breathed in the scent of the oil Dorian was using. Sweet almond and marsh mallow; he would never have thought to use them. It was lighter than anything he had ever found in Seheron, absorbed quickly and did not leave a greasy residue. And it smelled divine. He sighed, contented.  
  
    "I'm almost done this one," Dorian told him.  
  
    "Mm. No rush," Bull replied, and gave Dorian's hips a squeeze.  
  
    "It gets quite a mess here, right at your scalp."  
  
    "That's where it's itchiest," Bull agreed. "They're always growing, you know."  
  
    "Done that one." Dorian tapped Bull's scalp with his fingertips, turned his attention to the other horn. With a stiff-bristled brush he carefully sloughed dead skin and bits of horn that had flaked away at the base, used a cloth to clean away any remaining flecks. Then he dipped his fingers into the pot of balm he'd brought, and began to massage it in with firm and confident strokes. Bull hummed softly in pleasure. "There," Dorian said at last, and patted Bull's cheek.  
  
    Bull raised his head and opened his eyes. Dorian lifted away the towel he'd draped around Bull's neck to capture the detritus of his horn-care, tied it in a bundle, and leaned over to drop it to the floor beside the bed, then shifted and settled, still kneeling astride Bull's hips.  
  
    "Better?" Dorian asked.  
  
    "Much," Bull said. "Thank you." He leaned in for a kiss, cupped Dorian's head with one hand, and was gratified when Dorian looped his arms around his neck and leaned into the embrace.  
  
    "You're welcome," Dorian said against his mouth, then pulled back and rested his head on Bull's shoulder. "Now what?"  
  
    "We've got the day to do as we please," Bull pointed. "Boss is gone for a month at least, and Krem's got the boys on a mission. What do you want to do?"  
  
    "Spend the day reading in bed," Dorian said promptly.  
  
    Bull laughed, and rolled forward to pin him to the bed. "Just reading? Come on, a day in bed and you just want to _read_?" He pressed his face to Dorian's neck and kissed him with a loud smack.  
  
    Dorian snickered and squirmed, though he could not escape the tender assault. "What's wrong with reading?" he demanded.  
  
    Bull pushed himself up on one hand, used the other to smooth Dorian's untidy hair. Dorian watched him calmly, his eyes soft, not a hint of tension in his body. Only here in Bull's room was he ever able to relax, and this fact pleased Bull more than it should. "Nothing," he said at last, seriously. "Sometimes I'm just shitting you. But before we start reading, I have something for you."  
  
    Dorian's eyes narrowed. "Did you steal another pie from the kitchens?"  
  
    He laughed at that, slid away from the bed and padded barefoot across the room. From the wardrobe where he kept his weapons he withdrew a neatly-wrapped package tied with red string. He returned to the bed and sat beside Dorian, who pushed himself up on one elbow to watch. "Better than pie, I think," Bull said, and handed the package to him. Dorian turned it thoughtfully in his hands.  
  
    "What is it?"  
  
    "It's a present," Bull explained. "I give you something, and it's yours to keep. It's an Orlesian custom. You have to open it up and say, _oh, Iron Bull, it's the most amazing thing ever and now I want you to hammer me to the bed like a fucking board_."  
  
    Dorian snorted laughter, rolled to his back and held the package above him. He untied the string, let it fall on his chest, and carefully parted the paper to see what was inside. He frowned and sat up, set the package on his lap and withdrew soft leather. He turned it over and over in his hands, examining it from every angle, and finally slid one hand inside.  
  
    Bull's chest fluttered a little; the gauntlet fit perfectly, and he had gauged its tone correctly; it set off the golden-brown of Dorian's own skin.  
  
    Dorian tilted his arm; the other gauntlet dangled just a little, and the laces tumbled out of its cuff. "They're attached," he said.  
  
    "Yes," Bull agreed.  
  
    "But why—" Dorian's ears reddened suddenly, and a slight blush rose on his cheeks. "Oh," he said, and looked up at Bull. His grey eyes shone. " _Oh_."  
  
    "I hoped you'd like 'em," Bull said. "Maybe after we're done reading, we can give 'em a try."  
  
    "We could try now," Dorian suggested.  
  
    "Oh, no," Bull protested in his best sarcastic tone. "I believe we had a date for reading in bed, _all day_. You get to try out your present after supper."  
  
    "We can read anytime," Dorian said, and raised his arm to admire the workmanship of the leather, the impossibly soft fur on the inside.  
  
    "We can fuck pretty much anytime, too," Bull pointed out. He reached out and drew away the gauntlets. "Had them specially made for you."  
  
    Dorian reached for them again. "They're so soft," he said.  
  
    "Exactly. They won't leave marks on your widdle arms." Bull set the gauntlets out of reach on the bedside table. "Now, what do you want to read?"  
  
    "I want—"  
  
    "The Chant, I suppose," Bull said airily, as he moved to block Dorian's view of the table. "All right. Transfigurations good with you?"  
  
    Dorian sighed. He rolled to his belly, reached to the other side of the bed, where Bull had had a second table placed. He picked up his book and then manoeuvred himself to sit with his back against the headboard. As he held the book in one hand he waggled the fingers of the other; the book shuddered and opened to a page that was marked with a silvery glyph. He cast another spell to dissolve the glyph, and began to read.  
  
    Bull squirmed close, pulled the blanket up over them both and yanked Dorian to lean against his chest.  
  
    Dorian sighed again. "I do hate you," he complained.  
  
    "I know you do, _kadan_ ," Bull said with a laugh, and kissed Dorian's hair.  
  
    They both froze and Dorian twisted to look at him. "What did you say?"  
  
    "I said," Bull began, and cleared his throat. "I said I know you hate me."  
  
    "Of course you do, _amatus_ ," Dorian snorted softly. "I tell you so daily." He returned his attention to his book.  
  
    Bull forced himself to breathe evenly, to slow the beating of his heart.  
  
    It had been so natural. _Kadan. Amatus_.  
  
   _It wasn't supposed to happen like that._  
  
    Six months before, it was supposed to have been a quick sweet fuck that Dorian could excuse as the result of too much Fereldan port. That should have gotten it all out of their system, and they should have gone on snapping and gibing at one another. Dorian would have gotten to ride the Bull—everyone wanted to, naturally—and Bull would have satisfied his curiosity about sex with a mage.  
  
    But now—  
  
    He looked down at Dorian, comfortable and warm and interested in his book, uncaring that his moustache was not perfectly curled and that there were light bruises on his shoulder from Bull's love-bites. He looked down at himself, thickly scarred and healed, inside and out.  
  
    He glanced up at the bed curtains, still singed from the time he'd used the ball-gag on Dorian and Dorian had inadvertently set the curtains on fire. Bull had insisted on keeping them, once he'd put out the fire. The sight of the blackened embroidery still gave him a twinge in his belly, lit a spark of excitement that had been doused for years—even before he'd left Seheron.  
  
    Dorian let his head rest on Bull's shoulder and turned another page in his book. "Are you just going to sit there and watch me read?" he said without looking up.  
  
    "What if I am?" Bull responded.  
  
    "Rather dull way to spend a day, isn't it? I can lend you one of my books if you need one."  
  
    "I've got a book to read," Bull assured him.  
  
    "I hope it's not that trash Varric writes for Cassandra," Dorian scoffed. "Ugh."  
  
    "Nope, it's one of his crime serials. They're actually pretty good."  
  
    Dorian inhaled deeply and sighed. "If it pleases you, I suppose."  
  
    Bull leaned over to grab his book from the table and, one-handed, flipped it open to a page he'd marked with one of Krem's little hand-sewn bookmarks.  
  
    Before he lost himself in the story he let himself fantasise, not for the first time, about what spell Dorian might accidentally cast with his hands behind his back, bound in leather and silken fur…


End file.
